


Gods Walking On Earth

by pantsoflobster



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Les Amis de l'ABC - Freeform, M/M, just good natured les amis fluff, modern!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-10
Updated: 2013-03-10
Packaged: 2017-12-04 20:27:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/714735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pantsoflobster/pseuds/pantsoflobster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There aren't many things Enjolras can't do. He's a vision of strength and power, so put-together and perfect, the embodiment of any cause he lends his heart to. His very being fills the room and flows throughout it. </p><p>But, as Grantaire has discovered, this isn't such a desirable facet in situations that require passing by undetected.<br/>For example, when he needs to quietly move about a room in which eight of their friends are sleeping.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gods Walking On Earth

Jehan’s movie night wasn’t supposed to turn into a weird slumber party of ten twenty-somethings sleeping all over each other around the living room. Everyone had meant to go home to their own apartments and their own beds, but by the end of _P.S. I Love You_ , (Jehan has seen it more times than humanely possible and insisted it was the perfect movie to end the night on,) more than half of them were down for the count. Anyone who wasn’t asleep by that time wasn’t about to wake anyone up trying to leave.  


The floor in front of the couch was totally occupied by Marius, Cosette, Eponine and Combeferre, who were packed tightly together looking like a can of sardines, with their heads lolling on each other’s shoulders and arms strewn in various places. Jehan and Courfeyac were therefore trapped sprawled on the couch. If either of them tried to even place one foot on the ground there was a good chance they’d be crushing a dear friend. On the loveseat, Bossuet had slumped over the arm and it seemed gravity had brought Joly’s body to follow his in this direction. The recliner on the other side of the room was fully extended, holding Grantaire whose head was pillowed on Enjolras’s chest. It was nearly two AM, and the movie had ended hours ago. Someone had had the brains to at least mute the TV while it played the DVD menu over and over again.  


Grantaire was awake. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever fallen asleep. If he hadn’t, he’d come close, but right now he was completely alert. It was unusual for him, and slightly annoying to be the only one awake with nothing to do but lie on top of Enjolras and try to drift to sleep. His fingers traced idle patterns on the man’s shirt, and they had been for some time. He could tell Enjolras wasn’t totally asleep either. His body was still and his breathing was even, but something about him was tense and not relaxed. Unexpectedly, a hand moved from Grantaire’s back to grasp his.  


“How long have you been awake?” Enjolras whispered.  


Grantaire made a noncommittal noise and rested his chin so that he was looking up at him. “I don’t even know.”  


“I woke up a while ago and haven’t been able to fall back to sleep,” Enjolras said. “I don’t know why, I’m just not tired.”  


“Same,” Grantaire muttered.  


“We could go home,” Enjolras suggested. “It’ll be easier to fall asleep in our bed.”  


“I bet we’d miss some fucking awesome pancakes in the morning if we leave now.”  


Enjolras grinned and stretched his limbs out. “I need to get up and walk around.”  


“No!” Grantaire hissed, imposing his weight on him.  


“Why?”  


“You will wake _everyone_ up the second you set foot on this floor.”  


Enjolras rolled his eyes. “I will not, I can be quiet.”  


“There’s like thirty-two people laying around on the floor, you _will_ step on them or kick them or something.”  


Enjolras was staring at the ceiling, but the corners of his mouth turned up slightly because he knew this was true.  


In his element, Enjolras was majestic. He roused and inspired and empowered and moved with all of the fire of the sun. His demeanor was nothing short of grand. It was his nature to fill a room with his presence, to be the driving force of a body of people and to lift spirits with passion and zeal.  


Yet, at times when it became necessary to ditch the grandeur, he was absolutely unable to shake it from his persona. Enjolras could not be stealthy to save his life. He wasn’t a clumsy person, but when asked to be discreet and lay low, the greatness of his being flared from within. His shoulders swung about, burdened with great purpose, nearly knocking things off shelves. His feet fell upon the ground with the thunder of a god walking on earth, as if to make blatantly clear to all mere mortals that he was present. 

It was a fact, Grantaire had discovered, that Enjolras was incapable of being physically subtle. He had discovered this some time ago, close to the beginning of their relationship, one of the first nights they’d spent together. He’d been woken by the crash of glass in the middle of the night followed by a series of booming footsteps, leading a groggy and hung-over Grantaire to jump to the conclusion that his apartment had been broken into. He’d leapt up to his feet when Enjolras swept into his bedroom barely dressed.  


_“Sorry,” he’d said, but Grantaire didn’t even know what he was apologizing for. “Where do you keep the towels?”_  


_He’d squinted for a moment at the man in his doorway. He had only just come to remember that Enjolras had stayed in his bed that night. Still, he could only utter a confused, “…What?”_  


_“I knocked over a glass of water in the kitchen.”_  


_Grantaire was still trying to make sense of his thoughts upon waking up. “Who’s here?”_  


_“What?”_  


_“Who else is out there?”_  


_“No one,” Enjolras said, with his brow knit._  


_Grantaire squeezed his eyes shut and slurred, “That was you? Those… feet were you?”_  


_“What?”_  


_“You have really fucking loud feet.” Grantaire slumped back into his bed, and Enjolras had gone to find the towels himself._  


“Come on,” Enjolras insisted, trying to shove Grantaire aside, “let me up.” But Grantaire just wound his arms tighter.  


“No. Sh. Go to sleep.”  


“I can’t,” Enjolras groaned. “And neither can you!” Grantaire shushed him aggressively and he dropped his voice back to a whisper. “Get up with me. Let’s go walking outside. You love the city at night.”  


“It’s not night,” Grantaire protested. “It’s technically morning.”  


“Even better. No one else will be on the streets.”  


Grantaire sighed, and then shifted so that he was closer to getting up but was still pinning Enjolras to the recliner. “Do you understand that if someone wakes up, everyone wakes up, and there will be rage and someone will die?  


“Yes.”  


“You need to keep your fucking monster feet quiet.”  


“I will.”  


“Put your fancy pants away and just be _quiet_ , okay?”  


“Okay.”  


Grantaire stared at him until he was sure he understood. “Can you handle this?”  


“Yes, I can handle it!” Enjolras hissed, shoving at Grantaire’s chest. “Go!”  


Grantaire ever so carefully slipped from the chair and to the floor, extending a hand to help pull Enjolras up. When they were both standing, he pressed a finger to his lips and then pointed to their shoes and jackets around the room. Grantaire manually turned Enjolras around by his shoulders, pointing him in the direction they needed to go. “Go on,” he whispered, gingerly nudging Enjolras forward.  


He started off well, taking great care in each of his steps, his feet barely making a sound when they touched the ground. Grantaire kept his hands on his shoulders as he maneuvered him around the coffee table, completely avoiding the strip of floor where their friends were sleeping. Slowly but surely, they were making it into the clear.  


When they’d made it around the back of the couch, Grantaire dared to direct Enjolras to retrieve his jacket and Grantaire’s own sweatshirt from the coat rack by the kitchen while he went to pick up their shoes from by the door. He whispered, “Can you make it?” The blonde curls nodded with confidence.  
They split from each other, and the entire time Grantaire was quietly making his way toward the door, he was expecting a sudden thud or a smash or a the gradual increase in footstep volume. But he was bending down to gather up their shoes and it hadn’t come. He turned to see Enjolras reaching the coat rack and tenderly lifting the jackets from the hooks. Grantaire let out a sigh of relief.  


At this moment, Enjolras turned with his smug, triumphant grin to see that Grantaire was watching. He balled the jackets in his fist and punched them into the air over his head as a gesture of victory.  


But this was Apollo’s fatal mistake.  


His fist connected with the bookshelf that hung over the coat rack, and all too soon a wooden bookend shaped like an owl was rolling to the floor and several volumes of poetry were following suit. They all clattered to the ground creating one short-lived cacophonous noise, but that was all it took.  
Cosette sprang upright in a second, Marius and Combeferre close behind, the latter slurring, “Is everyone alright?” Eponine barely stirred but the groan was more than audible. Bossuet sat up at once, forcefully tossing a still-limp Joly to the other side of the loveseat. Courfeyrac also shot up immediately, shrieking, _“What’s going on?”_ while Jehan just nuzzled the couch and muttered, “Shhh, quiet...”  


All in the same moment, Grantaire had resigned to crouching down and folding his hands over top of his head in distress and defeat. Enjolras looked on in horror at what he had done.  


Courfeyrac looked dramatically between Enjolras and Grantaire at either end of the room. “What the _fuck_ is going on?”  


“Oh, you fucking moron…” Grantaire said slowly. “You had to get cocky.” He wasn’t looking at Enjolras but it was quite clear it was meant for him.  


Cosette rubbed her eyes and laid back down, clearly not giving a single shit about what actually ensued. Marius continued to look around the room, dazed and confused. Combeferre took one more moment to make sure no one was dying, and promptly went back to sleep. Courfeyrac just kept shouting. _“What time is it?”_  


“Nothing,” Grantaire said as he jumped up and made labored gestures for Enjolras to just follow him. He opened the door to the hallway. “It’s no-time. It’s No o’clock. There isn’t any time. Time has stopped. Go back to sleep.” He didn’t even know what he was saying, he was just filling the moment it took for Enjolras to cross the room and follow him out the door.  


“I can’t just _go back to sleep-_ ” Courfeyrac was whining as the door swung shut on his voice. Even when it was closed, they could hear Eponine yell, _“Shut. Up.”_  


For a beat, they were silent. But then they were laughing. Grantaire was dropping their shoes to the ground in the hallway so they could sit and put them on. They leaned against the wall, sharing looks and laughing in amused and disbelieving huffs.  


“I can’t believe you,” Grantaire said. “I cannot believe you. Was that really necessary?”  


“No, but neither were these, really,” Enjolras said, brandishing his jacket and Grantaire’s sweatshirt.  


“Oh, shut the fuck up, don’t even try it,” Grantaire said, shoving his shoulder unforgivingly. They stood up and walked to the elevator at the end of the hall, still smiling while they shrugged on their jackets.  


When the elevator doors opened, Enjolras pushed Grantaire in with his hands on his hips. He turned him around and shoved him against the back wall.  
“Are you trying to be _smooth_ now?”  


“Trying to be?” Enjolras retorted, dipping his head to kiss him. “I am smooth.”  


“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that, asshole.” Grantaire wound his arms around Enjolras’s neck but the elevator had brought them down four floors all too soon.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic I've posted to AO3, and also the first Les Amis fic that I've finished SO  
> couple of firsts for me  
> ok enjolras having inhumanely loud feet was an idea inspired by my rl best friend her feet i dont even understand  
> when she walks down stairs it sounds like someone just threw a bunch of bricks down them  
> I hope you liked it and I hope no one was too out of character I just write FLUFF and everyone being CUTE its all I can do  
> please let me know your thoughts i like thoughts!!


End file.
